The Black Sheep of the Family
by Tragic Christmas
Summary: Andromeda Black tells her tale during a time of uprising power and spilled blood; of questioned loyalties and forbidden love. Takes place before any of the books, spoilers present. UPDATE - Chapter 4 now up.
1. Family Ties

**THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE FAMILY**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its related copyrighted works belong to their rightful owners. All original characters belong to me.

Author's note: This is my very first fanfic. It is rated R for a reason, and it will contain material that may be offensive to others. I will not reveal any spoilers regarding the actual story. You have been warned.

* * *

Chapter 1

Family Ties

My breath fogged out before me as I walked through the corridors, tightening the collar on my thick cloak. The biting chill in the air was unusual for the mid-September weather, and the lack of properly distributed heat made the cold even worse indoors. At least the sunlight would provide comfort out by the forest, among the lush trees and patches of dry grass. I made my way through the gigantic front entrance, waving or greeting the occasional familiar face. I was once again relieved by the idea that I was the only Black in the entire school who was trusted enough to not randomly hex non-Purebloods, or anyone else for that matter.

But then again, it wasn't exactly something to publicly boast about.

A sharp crack suddenly pierced the air, followed by a yell and a muffled thump. I snapped out of my trailing thoughts, and realized that I was veering off towards the lake instead of the forest. My breath caught in my pounding heart, as I turned around and located the source of the unexpected noise.

Bellatrix and her group of Slytherins towered over a helpless second-year, whose shoes had been bewitched to shrink tightly around his feet and bound together by the bottoms. He sat in the dirt in a cross-legged position, his tormentors howling in laughter at his futile attempts to pull off the restraining shoes.

"Aw, does the little Mudblood need a new pair of shoes?" Bellatrix taunted. "Should've put your gold to better use instead of coming to a place for _real_ wizards, darling."

Even from where I was standing, I could see the silent humiliation and the urge to fight back tears on the poor boy's face. His school robes were rather shabby along with the condition of his scattered books, and it was evident that her insult had struck home. My fury and pity for the boy overlapped and I prepared myself for a confrontation, wand ready in my hand.

It was then that I caught Narcissa's eye.

She stood a good distance away from the pack of her housemates, but close enough to see what was going on. Her gaze on me was rigid, yet her delicate, porcelain face displayed no emotion. It was as if she was daring me to do something. Despite her being two years my junior, she still unnerved me at times.

Narcissa. Blank, unpredictable Narcissa.

There was a great deal of differences between the three of us, especially between my eldest and youngest sister. While Bellatrix was quick to judge and lash out, Narcissa remained watchful and silent. Bellatrix painted her lips in a ruby pout, contrasting with her ivory skin, which in turn contrasted with her gleaming dark eyes and hair. Meanwhile, Narcissa's golden locks and pale eyes likened her to a fragile china doll. But it was her detached and indecipherable nature that perhaps made her the most dangerous. Who knew what kind of thoughts she harboured in her mind? At least Bellatrix made her actions and verbal jabs loud and clear, while trying to understand Narcissa was like finding your way home in the middle of a thick fog.

"Oy!"

My sister and I broke eye contact as we both turned towards another familiar figure. Sirius came marching towards the Slytherins, his three friends closely in tow.

"Leave him be; what's he done to you?" he demanded, his dark eyes flickering towards the boy on the ground. He was now covered in strange purple boils, and his shoes were badly scuffed from his frantic clawing. He had not used his wand, at the risk of accidentally dismembering his feet with the wrong spell.

"Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. Always the avid Mudblood lover, along with the rest of your pathetic friends," Bellatrix sneered, throwing disgusted looks towards the four arrivals. The group of Slytherins chortled and jeered, and Sirius's face darkened even more.

"For God's sake, stop it with your Pureblood nonsense," James Potter snapped as Remus Lupin performed the counter-curse, to the boy's great relief.

"Just what are you proud of? That you're all inbred and that your mothers might as well be your aunts? Congratulations on having family trees that run in single straight lines."

The laughing stopped among the Slytherins; their smirks fading into scowls. Bellatrix looked the most enraged out of all of them, and James looked pleased with himself while Sirius and Remus laughed. Peter Pettigrew however, looked nervous as always.

Bellatrix let out a shrill scream, drawing more attention from the vicinity. Her face contorted in blind rage as she spewed curses at our cousin, violet sparks shooting out of the tightly clenched wand in her hand.

"You repulse me, you squalid blood traitor! It's disgusting enough that you associate yourself with the scum polluting our ancient traditions, but how _dare_ you allow that Muggle-loving trash to slander our good family name! You shame us all!"

With that last word, she hurled forth a menacing jet of light from her wand. Sirius intercepted the hex just in time, and the dark sparks flew apart and faded. James stepped forward as well, but Remus grabbed his arm.

"Lunchtime is nearly over. We should be heading back," he announced loudly, urging his friend backwards. Surely enough, the rest of the crowd out on the grounds began to amble back into the castle. Peter looked relieved, while Sirius's face was tinged with disappointment. I, on the other hand, was glad for a voice of reason among my impulsive cousin's friends.

With one last vehement glare thrown in Sirius's direction, my sister stomped away with the Slytherins. I looked up at Narcissa, who also glanced at me through her narrow, icy eyes and turned back with one graceful swoop of her cloak.


	2. A Rude Awakening

**THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE FAMILY**

Chapter 2

A Rude Awakening

Like I had always done for the past three years, I sat at the Ravenclaw table to have my breakfast. Although I faced my share of disdain from the family for being sorted into a house other than Slytherin, it was Sirius who had that horrid, bloodcurdling banshee for a mother. She was quick to blast members off the family tree tapestry for the slightest misdeed, and I knew that the only thing stopping her from disowning my cousin and I were the fact that we were still legally children. Even my cold, condescending father didn't have the gall to tell off such a dreadful creature.

A heated wand tip suddenly dug into my back, causing me to arch up in pain and surprise. I turned around in my seat to catch a glimpse of swishing black robes and hair, and a pair of heavily lidded dark eyes. Her crimson lips curled up in a menacing smile and with another sway of her robes, she continued her route down the path between tables.

Bellatrix was in her last year at Hogwarts, and seemed to be hell bent on making up for the additional three years that she wouldn't be able to torment me for. Not that she was planning to exempt Sirius, of course. I could see her turning towards the Gryffindor table, ready to exchange verbal venom. She would be able to keep her cool in the direct view of teachers, but I didn't know how well my cousin would fare against her sly goading.

I pushed the unpleasant thoughts of my sister out of my head as the owls flew into the Great Hall for their regular delivery, with thicker-than-usual editions of the Daily Prophet gripped in their talons. My copy dropped down next to my bowl of porridge and I snatched it up immediately, barely paying attention to the number of coins I stuffed into the owl's leg pouch. Even the ones that didn't bother to subscribe peered over their neighbour's shoulders, the bulk of the bundle of paper and the large bold lettering on the front page catching their attention.

_PUREBLOOD EXTREMISTS SPEAK OUT AT MINORITY CONVENTION – MINISTRY OF MAGIC SHOCKED_

_20 September – "It is a sad, sad, day for all of those who believe that a wizard's worth is measured by their integrity and expertise, not by the amount of "real" magic lineage in their blood," Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic proclaimed after the aftermath of yesterday's shocking turn of events._

_The Minority Convention, reserved for qualified non-members of the Ministry that wish to contribute to the welfare of the wizarding community was interrupted by a small group of uninvited wizards somehow breaking the anti-Apparating Charm around the building and storming the stage before a terrified Wendy Pettry. They proceeded to seal off the area from arriving Aurors as the leader of the group cast an Amplifying Charm, and gave this unsettling speech._

"_For too long, our venerable traditions have been marred by those disrespectful and foolish enough to breed with Muggles, a race that could never fully grasp the brilliant concept of witchcraft and wizardry. Muggle-born offspring are integrating with those who that have pure wizarding blood running back into the centuries, destroying the barriers that separate our great world and theirs. I ask you, how is this justifiable? Have none of you remembered Potions, one of the finest arts that contribute to the working order of our society? Muggles and genuine wizards are not meant to mix, as would serpent blood and unicorn tears. The results would be disastrous, and it is with great contempt and disgust that I say only the honored Salazar Slytherin was able to understand this. _

_For those who are not ashamed of pronouncing their devotion for the sacred upholding of the wizarding world, I urge you to step forward and aid in the cause for Pureblood supremacy. It is the only way to preserve our diminishing culture or else, only Muggle-borns with shameful fractions of true magic in their blood will take what was rightfully meant to be ours in the end. Need not worry in the method to contact us. We will find you, the authentic wizards and witches that have ancient honor and worthiness._

_I am simply called Voldemort, and it is a name which I will make sure lingers in the minds of the confused and ignorant masses out there. This will not be my first proclamation to you, and nothing will stop my loyal followers or I from carrying out my messages. With that, I take my leave."_

_Leaving the convention in an upheaval, "Voldemort" and the rest of the group Apparated in an instant. Madam Bagnold called for order after being brought a strong cup of Merkseed tea, and soon dismissed the convention for its participants to recover from the distress. Aurors are asking for assistance on the captures of these radicals, and for the wizarding community to remain calm._

_Terence Goodman – The Daily Prophet_

_PAGE 2 – PICTURES OF THE EXTREMISTS AT THE MOMENT OF ARRIVAL_

_PAGE 3 – EDNA'S EDITORIALS – WHY IT HAPPENED_

_PAGE 4-7 – OUTRAGED WITNESSES SPEAK OUT_

I stopped reading and turned the page; the sound of crunching paper intensified by hundreds of the documents being handled at the same time. Although some students were stunned into utter silence, others were quick to voice their concerns and disgust to their neighbours. The majority of the Slytherin table however, began to talk amongst themselves in less-than worried tones. Bellatrix for one, now back at her house table did not hide the wicked smile upon her face.

The moving pictures of the Pureblood supporters recaptured my attention on the next page. One image showed Wendy Pettry, a squat, brown-haired witch standing on a stool behind a podium, wildly gesturing with her arms. The next image was of the witch sprawled on her back on the floor, the stool knocked over on its side next to her. Her mouth was frozen in a terrified scream as a tall, stern-faced man now took her place at the podium, dressed in pitch-black robes and sporting smooth, flat hair of the same colour. Seven hooded individuals were spread out across the length of the stage, their fluid wand movements casting spells to seal off Aurors captured perfectly on the enchanted picture. Something about the man was definitely ominous, like a snake readying itself before it struck and devoured its prey. I peered closer, until the paper was rudely snatched out of my hands.

"Hey-" I began to protest, but my words were abruptly cut off short by hundreds of copies of the Daily Prophet shooting up towards the teachers' High Table. Every pair of eyes followed the flying trail of newspapers, some hands still outstretched as if they were still reading.

"Enough of this, all of you! Get to class!" Professor Marks, the Arithmancy teacher shouted; wand held high in the air. She was frighteningly and unusually livid, her face splotched with red and her eyes narrowed down to glistening slits. With one more furious swipe of her wand, the papers zoomed out of the Great Hall like a flock of owls to a destination unknown.

The small throng of teachers at the High Table goggled at her blankly, and we students did the same from down below. A moment of silence passed, before Professor McGonagall was the first to come to her senses and gently lead the poor woman out. That seemed to be the cue for the rest of us to depart and soon, we were heading towards our designated classes amid loud chattering.

"Did you see-"

"Unbelievable-"

"All my years at Hogwarts, I've never seen such-"

"I say he's just another crackpot radical-"

I caught a glance of the seventh-year Slytherins heading towards the stairs, and was immediately infuriated to see some of them having the audacity to laugh and imitate the angry outburst at the High Table. Bellatrix was one of the ones laughing the hardest.

How dare they?

Professor Marks was the only complete Muggle-born teacher in the entire school, yet had been clever enough to teach such a complex subject such as Arithmancy. Normally, I wouldn't have so much as raised an eyebrow at the predictable idiocy of the Slytherins. But after reading about that lunatic Voldemort, the bitter revulsion I had for my sister and her pack of sordid gits just grew to a whole new level. Something about Voldemort and Professor Marks's reaction to his perverse ideals simply twisted up my insides, and that unidentifiable hate seeped towards Bellatrix like oozing poison. I barely felt the nipping chill as I entered the dungeon for Potions.

My anger was still boiling like the Pliability Potion in my cauldron when Professor Frielworth tapped me on the shoulder.

"Be a dear and get me some Drainwood leaves from the greenhouse, will you Miss Black? You're closest to the door, and I simply can't leave a room full of Pliability Potions unattended without the risk of some buffoon turning their limbs into rubber."

I managed a small smile at her biting remark, and clambered up the dungeon steps. I made my way towards the greenhouse to see Professor Sprout teaching a class of Hufflepuffs in my year, and to my distaste, Slytherins as well.

"Now, Pembler Pouchplants have very fragile skin despite their thick surface hair and incredible pressure building inside of them, so use extreme caution when you trim them."

The two classes began carefully trimming the hairs on the round, pinkish bulb plants the twice the size of watermelons, as Sprout checked her office for Frielworth's request. I waited by the working fourth-years.

"Malfoy, keep talking and I'll tear you a new hole to talk out of," a boy snarled quietly from behind me, forebodingly snapping his sharp clippers.

I turned around slowly, taking note of the vicious banter. Ted Tonks and Lucius Malfoy sat side by side, muttering viciously to each other as their eyes never left their Pouchplants. Ted Tonks was a friendly Hufflepuff that I knew from Charms, while I viewed Malfoy as another slimy Pureblood fanatic from Slytherin. His blond hair gave a slick sheen as sunlight came down from the skylight above.

"What's wrong, Tonks? Are you scared by the idea of that Voldemort might actually go through with his plans somehow?" he derided softly, a rhythmic clipping accentuating his words.

"No, I'm just aggravated with the idea that freaks like you are wetting your pants over some crazy git who'll never be tolerated in the wizarding world. God, you're all delusional, so just shut up," Ted retorted, snipping at his Pouchplant in unbridled brutality. I opened my mouth to calm him, but Malfoy quickly interrupted.

"Admit it Tonks, you're just afraid. I just hope that Voldemort fellow actually gets his plan together and get rid of filth like you, like Marks…like the rest of the tarnished little Mudbloods that drag their appalling shit selves through this once honorable school."

The Pouchplant exploded.

The deafening popping noise was nothing compared to the resulting spatter of hard, apple-sized seeds and thick yellow goo bursting everywhere. The sickening stench and texture of the plant sap washed over me like a tidal wave, the giant seeds pelting fiercely against me like rocks. The last thing I remembered was choking and helplessly flailing my arms, and then slamming the back of my head on the floor.

A soft murmur of voices floated around me as the rest of my senses slowly came alive, transporting me back from my brief trip to unconsciousness. Even without opening my eyes, I could tell that I was in the hospital wing judging by the soft linen sheets draped across my gown-adorned body and lining the mattress below me. Despite my warm, comfortable surroundings, the pain in the back of my head instantly throbbed back to life. I stifled a groan, and slowly breathed out.

"I think he's brilliant," a brash female voice called out from what seemed to be a few feet away; each of her words haughtily enunciated.

I squeezed my eyes shut even harder. Oh God, what on earth was Bellatrix doing here?

"Just because this is the first Pureblood movement in a few decades doesn't mean it'll be successful," a second, softer voice added.

Narcissa. As if being rendered immobile by a giant exploding plant wasn't insulting enough.

"My dear sister, you worry too much. I have faith in this man to bring order among the wizards…there's something about him that sets him apart from the revolutionaries of the past."

At least Bellatrix and I agreed on something. Well, the second part of her sentence anyway. Order wasn't exactly a word I'd use to describe mixed-blood and Muggle-born eradication.

"And you forget, Narcissa…it was a Mudblood that inflicted such a severe injury on our dear Andromeda," my sister murmured quietly, but I could hear the sarcastic and patronizing undertones as she pronounced my name. My fist tightened under the covers as her footsteps made their way over to my bedside.

"She's always been a frail little creature…both physically and mentally," she scoffed, softly grasping a lock of my wavy brown hair.

I froze instantly. I never liked her touching me, for I knew her well enough to know that nothing she did was ever out of genuine affection. There was nothing I wanted more at the moment than to slap her hand away, but my supposed comatose state was proving to be advantageous. She was letting on more than she would ever tell me personally.

"Pathetic thing. She and that despicable Sirius may be the only Purebloods in our noble family to incur Voldemort's wrath. Naïve and stupid as she may be, I can see it in her pretty brown eyes that she has no qualms with the Mudbloods and supporting her beloved Ravenclaws. Of course, there's still some sense left in her to not go around broadcasting it like Sirius. Explains her quietness around us, doesn't it?"

Her continued rubbing of my thin wisp of hair began to send prickles of chills into my skin. There was something sinister about her seemingly gentle touch.

"Nonetheless, Andromeda is weak. A very drastic change of heart will be required of her if she wishes for her name to remain intact on the family tapestry."

"What do you think Voldemort will do to get rid of those with Muggle lineage?" Narcissa inquired, her voice flowing softly like wisps of smoke.

"Forced isolation, maybe? I'll be happy with whatever he does to keep those nauseating mixed-blood rubbish away from the _real_ wizards and witches."

The door crashed open, followed by an angry but familiar deep voice. "What's going on here?"

A dead silence washed over the room and I could feel the intensity of Sirius's gaze upon its occupants.

"Let go of her. Now," he demanded suddenly, as if his words were actually going to make an impact on my obstinate sister.

"Sirius, I'm insulted!" Bellatrix gasped in mock surprise, now twirling my hair around her finger. "How could you possibly think that I would inflict harm on my own sister?"

"Since when was I foolish enough to trust you? Andromeda didn't exactly have a normal childhood with you trying to curse her into oblivion for whatever trivial things she did you found fault in." He paused to give a bitter laugh. "Then again, since when did any of us have a normal childhood growing up with deranged Pureblood fanatics? Speaking of which, how is your mother?"

Bellatrix released my lock of hair, of which I was thankful for. I was worried that she would've ripped it out of my scalp in rage.

"You have insulted our family for the last time!" she screamed piercingly, and I was sure she had whipped out her wand.

The door slammed open again, followed by Madam Pomfrey's equally shrill voice.

"This is a hospital wing! Now, out! The nerve of you children, disrupting my patients-"

"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey," Bellatrix interrupted in a sickeningly syrupy voice, heavily contrasting with the ominous tone she had just used on Sirius. "I believe Narcissa and I have a right to be here, seeing how we are Andromeda's direct relatives."

"Sirius, however," she continued in a sterner tone, "is a mere cousin of ours and I believe does not count as a family visitor-"

"I'll be more of a family to her than you two ever will be!" Sirius snapped, innate resentment ringing through his voice.

To say the least, I was touched. Madam Pomfrey, however, was far from it.

"I don't give a troll's behind whether you're family or not! Get out, and I mean all of you! Out!"

I could hear my sisters and cousin leaving reluctantly while Madam Pomfrey looked me over and fussed to herself about impertinent students. Soon, she left my bedside and I was left to wonder about today's events.

What exactly was it that made Voldemort seem so threatening? What was it that seemed to draw the Purebloods toward him in praise and confidence of his future plans? Seeing Bellatrix this happy over something made my insides twist in apprehension, as if her self-assured attitude towards this man could actually turn the tables in the Purebloods' favour. Would he seize the wizarding world in fear and paranoia again, as the infamous Grindelwald did in 1945? Dumbledore had disposed of him with relative ease where mere Aurors could not. Could the Headmaster of Hogwarts do the same again?

Exactly who was this Voldemort?

* * *

Author's note: I'm sorry for chapter 1 being so short, and I hope this one makes up for it. Thank you, valis2 and theQuibbleringQuibblerer for reviewing. For the rest of you out there, please read and review!


	3. Disturbing Discoveries

**THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE FAMILY**

Chapter 3

Disturbing Discoveries

_"Erwina the Enigmatic, while being a brilliant witch, preferred to socially disengage herself in favour of experimenting with odd spells and potions in the comfort of her own home. Erwina would later discover one of the key ingredients to the Truth Tonic, the base of what would later become the stronger and more complex Veritaserum. Through 1823 to 1844, she traveled into the depths of the Amazon rainforest in hopes of finding a cure for-"_

I slammed my book shut, letting out a deep and audible sigh. I had been released from the hospital wing an hour ago, only to find two days worth of assignments faithfully awaiting my return. Clearly, Madam Pomfrey had forgotten what it was like to be a student when she gave strict orders of "avoiding mentally strenuous activities".

I propped up my elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands. There was no way I could complete Pierpoint's essay on Blinding hexes, write a detailed explanation of Summoning Charms, describe the most effective methods to capture an escaped magical creature in a Muggle environment, and have a good studying session for a History of Magic quiz. A mild pulsating started in the back of my head, intensifying with each passing moment.

"You're lucky it's not OWL year," a voice taunted in a good-natured tone.

"Don't remind me, Sirius," came my muffled reply from under my hands. I was beyond tired, and anyone could tell it was way past midnight without looking up at the clock.

"Come on, I'll help you," he offered, pulling up a seat beside me.

"This is the third time you've sneaked into the Ravenclaw common room. Someone's bound to catch you this time."

"It's nearly 2 o'clock in the morning, and the portraits have all gone off somewhere," he answered casually, snatching up a spare quill and parchment. "Besides," he added with a sly grin, "you _really_ need the help."

"Oh, alright, alright," I muttered through a yawn, reopening my History of Magic book. But no matter how much I squinted into the mass of tiny black letters, they refused to form coherent words and phrases in my line of vision. Drowsiness set in, and I was no longer able to keep my head up.

"Sirius…I'm just going to rest my eyes for a bit…wake me up in five minutes, okay?" I mumbled as I set my head down against the cool surface of the table.

"Got it," my cousin replied, the faint and metrical scratching of his quill lulling me into a deep sleep. The still-raging fireplace cast a fiery glow over his face, reminding me of the bloodline that had blessed us with such refined attractiveness. It was often said that what we Blacks lacked in empathy was made up for in looks. Clearly, Sirius was not compensating for anything. He was reliable and warm, the only real friend I had throughout all these years of routine studying and restrictive social interactions. The typical Ravenclaw cleverness, no matter how high of a dosage it came in did not involve matters of the heart. I had never felt a deep connection with any of my housemates as I did with my cousin. Yes, he would've made a fine Ravenclaw. However, he did not rely solely on cold logic and facts to get through life. That was what set him apart, and both the Sorting Hat and I knew this very well.

The question was; where was my place? Without the hard ambition and determination most of my family possessed for a one-way ticket to Slytherin, was I to be another generic Ravenclaw, doomed to a life of meticulous calculations and strict realism? If so, how could I have such a different mindset from those that had been chosen to be in the same house as I? A true Ravenclaw would have better sense than to take a break from completing overdue homework. A true Ravenclaw would not let tolerate rule-breaking and sneaking around in the middle of the night, even if the person involved was one of their dearest friends. Last of all, a true Ravenclaw would think twice before befriending Muggle-borns at the risk of being permanently disowned from their family.

But here I was, working my way through a stack of papers with a snuck-in visitor in the wee hours of the morning. A visitor who was a quick burn spell away from being a faceless stranger rather than family.

For the sake of my academic career, I needed to stop wracking my brain for impossible answers. With one last tired blink, I fell into a deep sleep.

A persistent shaking of my shoulders brought me awake, and I could hear a slightly whiny voice nagging away in the background. For a minute, I had considered grabbing my wand and firing off a Banishing Charm into whoever was behind me.

"Alright, I'm up," I snapped groggily, wanting to slap away those infernal hands.

"It's about time," Eunice Hodgekinson proclaimed, taking a step back. "I would _hate_ for Professor McGonagall to lower her opinion on us Ravenclaws because _someone_ slept in."

I frowned. The Banishing Charm sounded very good just about now.

Eunice, however, continued her incessant chattering. "But don't fret, you haven't missed breakfast yet. And it looks like whatever you did last night paid off, too. All your work seems to be done…of course, we being Ravenclaws, it should always be done. We have a reputation to uphold you know, the great Rowena Raven-"

What lingering thoughts of going back to sleep instantly vanished from my mind.

"What? It's _done_?!" I demanded loudly, springing up from my chair. Stacked neatly upon the tabletop were beautifully completed assignments, along with my course books and a few melted stumps of candles.

"Well, of course it's done," Eunice announced impatiently, putting her hands on her hips. "It's _there_, isn't it?"

I groaned, gripping my forehead with one hand. I had fallen asleep last night, and Sirius had done everything for me. Guilt and embarrassment swelled up inside of me, taking the place of my hunger existing just moments before. Under Eunice's quizzical stare, I gathered up my belongings and hurried out of the common room.

The Great Hall was packed and buzzing with noise by the time I set foot into it, the sweet aroma of various breakfast dishes wafting around me. My hunger struck back with a force, and I decided that speaking to someone on a full stomach would provide better conversation. I sat down and immediately began to scoop scrambled eggs on to an empty plate when flocks of owls soared in for their daily delivery.

Then I remembered. The Daily Prophet. Voldemort. Upheavals at the Ministry of Magic. I was desperate to find out what I had missed in the last couple of days.

I ripped the package out of the delivery owl's talons before it could touch down next to me, earning myself an angry hoot and a slightly shredded newspaper. I shoved the Knuts into its leg pouch without another thought, flattening out the parchments and desperately taking in its crisply printed contents.

PUREBLOOD RADICAL VOLDEMORT LEAVES ANOTHER OMINOUS MESSAGE

_23 September – The once crystal-clear waters of Beechbirch Lake have been made a thing of the past by the latest wave of the Pureblood radical Voldemort's troublesome messages_.

_Inhabitants of the small forest village awoke to discover their beautiful lake completely dried up, transformed into a muddy wasteland of dead nautical creatures of all shapes and sizes. Several villagers burst into tears at the grisly sight of suffocated merpeople, and cauldrons of the Calming Draught were brewed at haste to accommodate the severely distressed._

_But the most shocking discovery of all was the message left by the perpetrators; gigantic letters dug deeply into the sodden lake bottom for all to see. _

_PURITY HAS BEEN THE ESSENCE OF POWERFUL MAGIC THROUGHOUT CENTURIES OF MAGICAL HISTORY _

_ONLY THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN UPHOLDING HONORABLE TRADITIONS WILL PREVAIL IN THE END_

_WE WILL NOT BE DEPRIVED OF WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS TO TAKE_

_Like the last two messages the perpetrators left in Little Hangleton and Barnton, this one was enchanted to be indelible despite the waterlogged conditions of the lakebed and had a strange, unsettling symbol of a skull with a serpent for a tongue engraved at the bottom of the message. _

_"Oh, it's absolutely terrible," Martha Lornby, long-time resident of Beechbirch sobbed as she pointed down at what was left of the lake. "They've already shown very little regard for creatures that can just as well feel pain as the rest of us. What's stopping them from doing the same to us?"_

_"They sneak up like rats to our village in the middle o' the night an' destroy one o' the oldest monuments we've ever had. Cowards, all o' them!" Julius Henderson, another resident voiced his severe disdain for the desecration of the lake as he took a sip of the Calming Draught. _

_"Our team of qualified Aurors will take whatever drastic measures necessary to apprehend these radicals," Mr. Bartemius Crouch Sr., head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement announced to a team of waiting reporters at the Ministry of Magic as he returned from Beechbirch._

_But so far, none of the criminals have been successfully taken into custody. Despite the Ministry of Magic being bombarded with owls shortly after the Beechbirch incident, Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic was unavailable to comment. So far, no witnesses have appeared to be present in all three of the troubling incidents. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad has set up networks to take any tips regarding the radicals, and encourages mass cooperation to "procure much-needed safety back into our beloved community of diverse magic." _

_Hazel McTavish – The Daily Prophet_

I set the paper down in disbelief. The level of noise skyrocketed in the Great Hall, all attention being diverted to discussing the morning's events instead of food. I looked up at the High Table to see all the teachers minus Professor Marks somberly whispering amongst themselves, and also missing from their usual seats were Dumbledore and McGonagall.

A jolt of apprehension prickled through me. The biggest worry I had three days ago was Bellatrix sticking a wand into my back and out of nowhere, things had turned for the worse. I hated this feeling of such helplessness and worry, hating my own anticipation of what news of the Pureblood extremists would be printed in the next edition of the Daily Prophet.

I got up from my seat, rushing out of the Great Hall with my book bag slung across my shoulder. I couldn't stand being around this nonsense for another minute. My mind was a complete jumble as I walked up three flights of stairs without paying attention to direction. Pureblood extremist threats, OWL preparations, falling behind in the last couple of days, Bellatrix and Narcissa…everything was just so stifling and complicated that considering even one option to try and solve things seemed to bring about a whole mix-up of problems itself.

I peered down the corridor, and was thankful for its deserted state. I desperately needed some time alone before class, even if it meant locking myself in the girls' bathroom. I streaked around a corner only to catch a glimpse of something black, but it was too late.

A loud "OUCH!" sounded out from the dark figure as my face and upper body slammed into it, followed by the clatter of my book bag and more heavy objects crashing against the stone floor. I stumbled back clumsily, bright white spots clouding my vision.

"You okay?" I mumbled without meaning it, furiously blinking as I attempted to gather up my scattered books and papers.

"You shouldn't fly around corners like that. A bit of a health hazard, wouldn't you say?" a male voice called out in a slightly condescending tone, grating the last of my worn-out nerves.

"Oh, shut up. The only health hazard here is you endangering someone with your stupidity," I snapped without thinking, only to regret it as the words fell from my mouth. What was wrong with me today?

An uncomfortable silence dropped over the near-empty corridor, and I was grateful for my curtain of dark hair shielding my face from view as I bent over my strewn belongings. I opened my mouth to apologize.

"Listen, that was-"

"Andromeda?" the boy suddenly interrupted in a surprised, yet uncertain tone. "Andromeda Black?"

I looked up instantly, letting my hair fall back over my shoulders. Crouched down in front of me, holding a bundle of quills in mid-air was Ted Tonks. His dark brown eyes met mine, and seemed to widen a little.

"I seem to be causing you a great deal of harm this week," he said dryly, trying to suppress his grin.

"No, no…it-it's my fault for being in such a rush, and that Pouchplant incident was purely an accident," I blurted out nervously, haphazardly shoving things into my bag.

"Quite a mess," Ted mused, rising up and slinging his very bulky bag over one shoulder.

"Well, organizing everything all over again will have to wait since I'm going to be late for Transfigura-"

"That's not what I meant. I mean you," he replied nonchalantly, dusting off his robes.

"_Excuse me_?" I enunciated, shooting him a bewildered look. I didn't know whether to take offense or to simply goggle at him in disbelief.

"You are a mess, Andromeda. I mean, I know you're naturally pale and all but you've taken it to a whole new level. You've got these awful circles under your eyes…looking rather peaky, I must say. And you had this funny glazed look in your eyes when I bumped into you. You feeling alright?"

Good Lord. Just how bad did I look if a boy I barely knew was dissecting my physical appearance out of nowhere?

"Yes…I think. Good day, Tonks," I managed to say as I brushed past him, unsure of what to make of the situation. Either this entire school was going mad, or I was.

I walked into the small bathroom, and was instantly taken aback by my dreadful reflection in the large, gleaming mirror set above the sink. My normally smooth curls were frizzed and out of control, while my lips were dry and chapped like desiccated leaves. Dark circles indeed hung below my eyes, startlingly contrasting with the deathly pallid tone of my skin. The memory of not eating since dinner last night and falling asleep rather awkwardly with my head and arms sprawled over a table flashed back to me. Hopefully, my neglect to bathe and change out of my old robes this morning would not create any unpleasant smells.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to at least be rid of my dazed and haggard expression. The sudden chill was refreshing, and as much as I hated to admit it, refreshing as Ted Tonks' brutal honesty. My reflection grinned back at me as I smoothed down my unruly hair with damp hands.

A sudden babble of voices and footsteps broke into my thoughts, putting my lethargic mind back on high alert. The volume of the noise grew outside of the bathroom door, and I instantly recognized the loud, ringing voices of two of the most obnoxious Slytherin girls that I had the misfortune of coming across a few times. Hiding was the first thing that came to mind.

I dashed into the very end stall just as the bathroom door squeaked open, the piercing drawls of the girls' speech clearer than ever. I climbed up on the closed toilet bowl lid, reaching out and shutting the stall door just as the chattering duo took their place at the mirrors. I stood up slowly, and poked my head just above the high stall barrier. Thankfully, the Slytherins seemed too occupied to notice.

"Did you see Henrietta Schmidt's face as she read the paper this morning?" Hilda Oxley inquired with a nasty smirk, gazing haughtily into her less-than extraordinary self in the mirror.

Phyllis Strayworth, the shorter of the two let out a screech of laughter, producing a brush from her book bag and running it through her severely cropped, chin-length hair.

"The Mudblood looked as if she was going to cry," she replied viciously with an unpleasant gleam in her eyes.

"Lucky for her, she could've just mopped her tears with the Daily Prophet. At least the ink stains would cover up that disgusting acne of hers," Hilda muttered, as Phyllis' overbearing shrieks of cruel mirth drowned out her own laughter. With a satisfied sneer, she turned her gaunt, bony face in her friend's direction.

"I heard something interesting about Frederick Nott," she hissed, as Phyllis leaned closer. I, too, craned my neck for a better listen. Any information that Slytherins were only willing to divulge among themselves was worth hearing.

"It seems like Nott has been rather happy in spreading news about his dear old dad," Hilda continued in a bemused tone. "He's suddenly declaring what an eager supporter of Voldemort and his followers he and his dad are, and how they see great fortune in supporting their cause. Of course, he's only mouthing this off in the common room to not get the snot kicked out of him by the Mudbloods and their mates. You know, especially since those half-fish gits in Beechbirch Lake literally bit the dust," she added spitefully, to Phyllis' obvious delight.

"But the strangest thing was, I saw him show off the package he was owled this morning to a bunch of sixth-years behind the statue of Frieda the Fickle. And you know what the strange thing was?"

She paused to give her friend a wry, twisted grin.

"Go on," Phyllis urged impatiently, gaping at her in unrestrained curiosity.

"If it's what I think it was…it was a mermaid pendant," Hilda declared, to Phyllis' great shock and mine. "I'm thinking Nott's old man took a little trip last night and brought back a souvenir for his boy."

"How do you know it was a mermaid pendant?" Phyllis asked, completely awestruck.

Hilda was evidently pleased by the undivided attention, and coolly flipped back her lackluster blonde hair.

"I have this crackpot of a great-uncle who's _completely_ fanatical about his job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he made me read a book on nautical creatures when I had to stay over at his house during the summer. I just remembered some of the stuff, that's all. From where I was standing, that thing in Nott was dangling in front of the sixth-years' faces was an authentic pendant that can only be forged by merpeople," she proclaimed proudly, probably delighted at the fact that she could remember something from a literary source other than Betty's Beautiful Bargains Catalogue.

"Wow," Phyllis said breathily, clinging to Hilda's every word. By now, her eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "Does that mean-"

"Yes, Nott's father got a hold of a mermaid pendant, and he didn't exactly dive to the bottom of Beechbirch Lake to get it," Hilda interrupted exasperatingly, giving her friend a rather pointed look. Phyllis paid no heed and sniggered, which soon escalated into deep, unabashed guffaws.

A deep, hollow feeling resonated in the pit of my stomach.

I waited until the Slytherins departed, and then stepped down from the toilet bowl. A mixture of astonishment, anger, and fear continued to churn inside of me as I stepped out into the hallway, which was now filled with near-tardy students rushing to their first class. I, on the other hand, maintained my slow shuffle to my Transfiguration class. McGonagall gave me a stern look as I entered the room, and I could barely hear her lecture of my first-ever lateness as I sat down.

The questioning glances of other Ravenclaws seemed so far away as I mulled over the eavesdropped exchange between Hilda and Phyllis in the girls' bathroom. It had been less than a week since Voldemort and his group of Pureblood fanatics made their first appearance, and already the effects of their noxious and wicked grasp had reached Hogwarts. Would the parents of the other Slytherins join up with Voldemort as well, sending mementos of their grisly conquests to their children? Would Sirius' parents and mine be among them?

For the first time in my life, there was something else to fear besides my family.


	4. Storm Clouds

**

* * *

THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE FAMILY**

Chapter 4

Storm Clouds

Sanity was a hard thing to maintain as the days dragged on, in both Hogwarts and the rest of the world existing beyond its gray stone walls and forest full of mysteries.

Tensions jumped to a new high each day with the delivery of the Daily Prophet, its contents divulged and discussed to no end among students regardless of their location; mealtime, common rooms, dormitories, hallways, bathrooms, Quidditch matches, and even classrooms, to the teachers' great aggravation. Despite severe reprimands and heavily distributed detentions, anything that the Daily Prophet reported on Voldemort and his followers spread like wildfire among the frenzied residents of the once-tranquil school.

Although no more killings had taken place after the Beechbirch Lake incident, the hate-driven Pureblood and his followers were now leaving foreboding messages all over Britain, regardless of Muggle or wizard habitation. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad were facing much scrutiny for not being able to apprehend at least one suspect, while Obliviators were at their wits' end at trying to reach all Muggles that had come across enchanted letters of deep crimson slashed deep into their front doors and lawns. Muggles could at least be made to forget about the desecration of their property, but no one in the wizarding world could ignore troubling notices of _'Our numbers grow steadily each day, as will the death tolls of the Mudbloods, half-bloods, traitors, and the non-magical filth. Their bones will form the pathway to a new era.'_

Suspicious glances exchanged between students seemed fierce enough to burn holes in their path, the hiss of vicious whispers sharp enough to elusively blow out eardrums. Intense fights had broken out over misunderstood words, great gaps suddenly separating years of friendship and turning them into nothing but distant memories. Paranoia and confusion was eating away at us all, and the tension began to mount into impossible levels.

Ironically, it was the Pureblood students that were suffering most greatly through Voldemort's turbulent campaign. Although no Pureblood had dared to speak up in favour of the extremist, a sense of retaliation began to swell within the hearts of some Muggle-borns and mixed-bloods towards those with pure ancestry. The rather prejudiced Purebloods in Slytherin were grouped together with the mixed-lineage supporting Purebloods from the rest of the houses, all of them ridiculed and openly accused of being advocates of Voldemort's movement. This in turn spurned on the Purebloods to wrathfully go on the defensive, lashing out at anyone who so much as peeked in their direction.

I certainly was not exempt from getting caught in this gigantic web of doubt and allegations. My name and lineage had been whispered plenty of times by staring students as they passed by, the words 'sister of that _awful_ seventh year' and gasps of shock often included in their jumble of hushed dialogue. The biting buzz of gossip and contempt began anew as I entered the Charms classroom and sat down in front of a group of assembled Hufflepuffs.

"It's Andromeda _Black_. You know what _that_ means," a girl piped up, attempting to keep her voice down but failing miserably.

"You think she's one of them?" a boy hissed. I concentrated on looking over my homework, checking for errors.

"Of course she is. Have you seen the rest of her family?" another girl joined in spitefully. "There's that wench Bellatrix that elbowed me on the stairs last year, nearly making me fall. Then there's that prat Regulus…and the snot-nosed blonde. I forget her name-"

"Who cares," the first girl snapped, "it's not like they've done spectacular things for people to remember their names by."

I closed my eyes, wanting to squash little Professor Flitwick under my heels for being late.

"Marrying their cousins, that's probably about it," a different boy chuckled, drawing out muffled sniggers from the rest of the pack.

"Speaking of which…the Fat Friar told me that he saw Sirius Black coming out of the Ravenclaw common room a couple weeks ago. At _dawn_."

I gripped my book tightly, the urge to blast all of Hufflepuff into oblivion becoming rather difficult to hold back.

"And there was Andromeda Black the next morning, looking very tired and _disheveled_," the girl said deviously, stirring up scandalized giggles and loud exclaims of disgust among her housemates. Her suggestive tone was blatant and unapologetic, a direct slap to my face.

I bit into my bottom lip hard as I began to tremble in humiliation and fury, the corners of my book leaving deep, red grooves in my hands as I clutched them harder. I bent my head low to disguise my pooling tears, desperately trying to swallow away the lump in my throat.

"Good morning, dear Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs," the squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick burst out, causing to me slouch even further. "I apologize for my delay; there was something I needed to take care of in my office. Now, let us begin our lesson for today, shall we?"

I pointed my wand at my face, performing a small Drought Charm to dry up my tears. I concentrated relentlessly on the sound of Flitwick's voice, wishing for it to push away the lingering memory of the Hufflepuffs' derisive voices.

I was a nervous wreck by the end of class, nearly bursting into tears again at the sight of the Hufflepuffs that tore away at my dignity so shamelessly after three years of friendly waves and smiles. I was suddenly some kind of incest-loving slut to them; nothing but another Pureblood for them to blame for the Pureblood radicals terrorizing the country. My eyes began to sting with unshed tears and even at the height of my misery, I realized that nothing Bellatrix ever said to me had hurt me this much.

I stared down the hallway at the Hufflepuffs in the distance, fists clenched tightly by my sides.

"Hey, Andromeda," Ted Tonks, out of all people called out timidly from behind me, setting his hand on my shoulder. "I-"

"Don't you dare touch me!" I snapped, pushing away his hand. He shrank back in surprise as I whirled around, tears finally streaming out from the corners of my narrowed eyes.

"What's wrong-"

"You were there, you very damn well know what went wrong!" I screamed at him, his calm deceit finally driving me over the edge. "Do you honestly think being pureblooded makes me that thick? I saw you sitting diagonally from them, and I know you heard everything, you dirty, lying trash!"

"Andromeda, I'm-" he stammered, but I had no patience for any of his excuses.

"You're what? Sorry that you had the misfortune of actually bumping into an inbred tramp the other day?" I retorted ferociously, my voice thickening from the returning lump in my throat. It felt unbelievably good to unleash my rage; to actually retaliate for all of the nasty whispers and stares I had to endure to this time.

"I don't, and I never _would_ support that Voldemort and his deluded schemes, do you know that?" I continued, panting heavily and wiping my wet face with the back of my hand. "But no, you and the rest of the crazy bastards in this school have made up some sort of sick witch hunt based on blind paranoia, completely shitting yourselves at the slightest mention of 'Pureblood'."

I paused to stare into his eyes, which slightly faltered under my steely gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted once more.

"How does it feel, Tonks?" I inquired softly. "How does it feel to be generalized and ridiculed, to never even have an opening to explain yourself?"

I turned my back to him, hugging my book bag to my chest. "You Hufflepuffs aren't 'just and loyal'. You're all just as bad as those you so openly condemn."

With that, I stomped down the hallway, the taste of unadulterated hatred still bitter in my mouth.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you valis2, for reviewing!


End file.
